Look To The Stars
by Tayk
Summary: Oneshot. A rewrite of my fic Chiriko. This version's a lot better. Chiriko survived the battle with Miboshi. He records his story on a scroll in his old age.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Fushigi Yuugi. It, unfortunately, belongs to a sadistic old guy in Oklahoma (I don't like Yuu Watase).  
**Full Summary: **Formerly named Chiriko (I thought of a better title! Yay!). Redone. Chiriko survived the battle with Miboshi, and records his story on a scroll. The first part is kind of cliché. MUCH better than the original.  
**Author's Notes: **My first FY fic, rewritten. I pieced it together after reading books 11-13 for the first (and last) times. It's not perfect. Review it, flame it, whatever you like.

I'm very proud of this fic. It's a lot better than the first version (I keep wanting to cry because of the end, whereas I laughed at the end of the last one) and more than a thousand words longer, not including the author's notes.

**Look to the Stars**

Miboshi, the diminutive seishi of Seiryu, fell limply from his place in the air. He was dead before he hit the ground. The seishi of Suzaku, and Miaka, dared not relax. They dared not cheer the defeat of their enemy or revel in their triumph. This battle was far from over.

Beside Mistukake, Chiriko drew a sharp breath. He stiffened, auburn topknot giving a quiver before even it settled into an unnatural stillness. His amber eyes showed internal conflict and his breath was ragged.

The healer set a hand on the youngest seishi's shoulder. His touch seemed to bring Chiriko from a trance. He snorted contemptuously and batted the older warrior's hand away, without so much as even glancing at him. Mitsukake flinched away, shocked, as if the youngest warrior had struck him.

Tama-neko meowed. No one paid attention to the tag-along cat. They were all watching Chiriko rise into the air, head cocked and legs crossed in the exact same posture as Miboshi, not so long ago. Miaka took a step toward him. Her eyes were puzzled.

"Chiriko?" she asked tentatively. Tamahome put a hand on her arm and drew her back, stepping protectively in front of his love.

"_That_ is not Chiriko," the oni seishi growled.

"How could'ja tell?" came Tasuki's sneer, loaded with the anticipated sarcasm.

"When was the last time you saw Chiriko float?" Tamahome shot back. Chichiri stepped between the two before they could go to blows. This was no time for a fight between Suzaku's. The monk's masked eye was still fixed on Chiriko's imposter. His penciled eyebrows were drawn up and together, mouth pressed into a tight little frown. The overall expression was one of concentration or concern.

"Tamahome is right, no da." His voice was perfectly calm but his stance was stiff, one hand wrapped around his staff and the other gripping his rosary in anticipation of casting a spell. Chiriko tilted his head to one side and made talking movements with one hand, mocking them. Boredom and disdain were etched into his youthful features. The expression did not suit him at all.

"When you're quite finished," Miboshi's voice drawled. Everything was instantly silent. "That's better." A truly evil smirk spread across his lips, pressed tight. Subconsciously, the Suzaku's all decided in that instant that it was a good thing Chiriko never smirked. The expression was enough to make the thirteen-year-old look as sadistic as Nakago on a bad day.

Tama-neko meowed again. Again, he was ignored.

"Chiriko…" Miboshi paused for dramatic emphasis. He examined the nails on one hand for a moment before flicking his eyes towards them. Obviously, he was enjoying this. "Is dead." Miaka's eyes widened and she buried her face in Tamahome's back, whimpering. No one else responded. They were in the middle of a fight. There was no time for mourning. "My body is dead, that is true, and of no use to me. It is costly to perfect techniques such as mine, but well worth it. I can easily possess another live being. Children are easiest, though your Chiriko did put up… a _bit_ of a fight." He smirked again. "It was like squishing a large bug, as compared to a small one."

Tama-neko streaked from his hiding place behind a pillar. He nudged Mitsukake's ankle with his nose, repeatedly and with increasing urgency when the healer muttered, "Not now, Tama."

"Oh, give your cat a scratch on the ears," scoffed Miboshi, arrogantly. "It'll be the last thing you do." Warily, Mitsukake knelt and rubbed Tama behind the ears. The cat, looking affronted, shook off the hand and pushed his muzzle close to the seishi's ear. Mitsukake paused and then barely managed to restrain an expression of shock. His eyes flickered to Miboshi in Chiriko's body, then to Chichiri, and he gave a minute nod. He picked up the cat and proffered him to Chichiri. Everyone looked confused, especially the blue-haired monk, but said monk took the cat and stroked his head out of habit. Again, Tama shook off the petting hand and. He pawed at the monks shirt and scrambled to his shoulder.

Chichiri, too, looked surprised. His thin eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. He moved his hand on his staff, shifting it to a subtly readier grip. Then he gave a slight nod, as Mitsukake had. Tama, looking happy, leapt to the floor and took shelter behind Tamahome and Miaka. These two glanced curiously at him, as did Miboshi.

Chichiri stepped forward. The rings on his staff jangled menacingly. "Chiriko brings up a good point, no da," he said calmly. "You see…" Then, without warning, he swung his staff at Miboshi's head, uttering a hurried "Gomen, no da!" as it struck. Everyone experience a slight de ja vu as Chiriko fell from the air, quite dead before hitting the ground.

"That's okay," Chiriko's voice said from seemingly no where. Tasuki, Miaka, and Tamahome all looked around eagerly for the source. "I will quite willingly deal with the headache, as long as that… that… _that_ is out of my body." Miaka stared down at Tama-neko. He gave her an innocent expression before padding towards the fallen seishi's body. Chichiri gripped his rosary, chanted for a few seconds, and stared hard at Chiriko's form. A blinding flash of red light surrounded it for an instant, like a bubble, before vanishing just as quickly. There was a sound like an annoyed grunt. The monk relaxed slightly.

"You've got about five minutes, no da," Chichiri said, his voice laced with concentration. "That's when your body dies. Make it quick, no da!"

Tama-neko bristled and hissed, the fur along his arched spine standing straight up. Then he calmed right back down and nudged Miaka's leg, asking to be picked up. Confused, she complied.

"Are you Chiriko?" she asked in confusion. Tama rubbed his cheek against hers, affectionately, and mewled. He was just a cat again. All attention was turned back to Chiriko's body and the five Suzaku's waited for something to happen. Though they couldn't see anything, there were voices, their words soft and unintelligible. Then there was a sound like a grin (?) and clashing noises, like a fight. These were accompanied with faint flashes of light. Exactly four and a half minutes later, everything grew quiet. Tama-neko purred. Chichiri glanced at him. The cat was staring at the empty air with an incredibly smug expression. A nod and a smile were given in return and the red light flashed around Chiriko's body. It faded slowly, this time.

"You took your time, no da," commented the monk mildly. "I expect you're tired, no da."

"Wha's goin' on here?" Tasuki demanded, patience at its end.

"Miboshi possessed Chiriko," Mitsukake told him vaguely.

"Tha's not what I mean, an' ya know it," growled the bandit.

"I'll explain, no da," Chichiri told Mitsukake. The healer had been searching for the right words, trying to describe what had happened, and gratefully nodded to his fellow seishi. "I'm a monk, no da, and my specialty is exorcisms. That is, removing a foreign presence from a body, for you illiterates, no da."

Tasuki bristled, sure that the comment was directed at him. (It was, but Chichiri didn't say that outright.)

"Cats have a strong innate sixth sense," Chichiri went on. "When Miboshi took over Chiriko's body, Chiriko's soul was kicked out. Tama-neko saw his soul and offered to share his body, no da. That way, Chiriko didn't fade into nothingness, no da.

"But back to the exorcisms, no da, Miboshi was essentially just a foreign presence. His soul didn't belong in Chiriko's body and it didn't fit quite right, no da. I just took it out and made sure he couldn't get back in, no da. Then Chiriko left Tama's body and he and Miboshi fought. According to Tama-neko, Chiriko won. He should be coming to any minute, no da."

Miaka was making movements with her hands, trying to follow this logic. Eventually, she said, "So, if a soul can reenter a body, why did Nuriko die?" She winced, still quite upset about the almost-female seishi's death.

A groan came from Chiriko's body. The boy sat up, rubbed his eyes, yawned, and then looked at Miaka. "It's because Miboshi never actually killed me. My body still worked. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to get in at all. Nuriko really died. Her body didn't work anymore."

Miaka was the first to rush forward and give the seishi a hug. Tama dropped to the floor and took refuge with Mitsukake.

"Can't breath," Chiriko gasped after a full minute.

"He's turning blue, Miaka," Tamahome said, a sweat drop rolling down his head. She squeaked and let go, apologizing fervently. Chiriko coughed and yawned again.

"Tired," he muttered vaguely. Thunder from outside diverted their attention. It had been clear when they arrived.

"They're summoning Seiryu!" The Suzaku's leapt to their feet. Chiriko pushed aside his tiredness and followed his friends. He made sure to kick Miboshi's body (accidently, of course) as he passed.

**_About seventy years later…_**

_I'm the last one. The last seishi. Well, Tamahome might still be alive. _

_The others are dead. _

_Nuriko died first. She died before Miboshi possessed me. _

_Mitsukake was next. I was there. He used the last of his life force, his _chi_, to save an infant girl's life. As I understand it, the girl had the same name as his late fiancé. He wanted to save just one more life. _

_After Mitsukake was Hotohori. He was stricken down by Nakago, current shogun of Qu-Dong and one of Seiryu's seven warriors. _

_Tasuki was fourth. He died well after the war was over. He returned to Mount Reikaku, his bandit fortress, at the age of twenty-three. They didn't welcome him the way we anticipated. _

_Chichiri was after Tasuki. We lived in the palace for a long time, he and I. Chichiri… took ill… and died swiftly. I don't think he suffered much. That is good. _

_And now, only I am left. I never married. I never had children, though I was Boushin-sama's advisor and later, a school teacher in my own city. Boushin-sama has grown to be a fine emperor and, I think Hotohori would agree, is as beautiful as his father was. Perhaps, though, Hotohori would think not. I do not speak ill of the dead, but the late emperor was always quite a narcissist. _

_Chichiri made me promise that I would live a long and full life, that I would die old. I promised whole-heartedly. _

_Well, I am certainly old. _

_No more is my face rounded with youth – now, it is wrinkled. My hair is silver. I am certain that my eyes, even, have changed. I remember being told that I have innocent and kind eyes. Now, I am sure, they are hard and cold. The eyes of one who has seen much and lived through more. _

_I mentioned teaching in a school. My students span through three generations and upon each I have imparted much of my wisdom. They are successful in their lives, and I am proud. _

_It is enough to satisfy an old man. _

_Still, I find myself longing for the days of my youth. The days long past, when I rode fearlessly to battle alongside my comrades and friends – though I could hardly lift any blade but a small dagger. I preferred to call it a short-sword, and it was one that killed many of the Qu-Dong soldiers. I was small. They paid little attention to me, save laughing at my ridiculous appearance, clad as I was in too-big armor and sitting astride a colt only halfway grown. _

_I was glad to have killed many. Each that died by my hands meant that I, my comrades, and the people of my beloved country had one more chance to live. _

_It didn't matter, in the end. No matter how many fell at my hand, they died anyway. _

_Please understand, it is not my wish to be morbid. My only wish is to life as Chichiri wished me to, long and happily, dying peacefully at a very old age. _

_Alas, in these years that I am sure are my last, my fellow seishi are all that I can think about. I remember my priestess, whom we all loved in one way or another. To me, she was an older sister. To Hotohori and Tamahome, as well as Nuriko and I am sure Tasuki (these latter two to a lesser extent than the former), she was a romantic interest. I think that she was more a friend to Nuriko than anything, however. I think, perhaps, Chichiri and Mitsukake saw her as a daughter figure. It was hard not to love Miaka. She was so bright and cheerful, always, so vibrant and full of light when things seemed their darkest. _

_I continue to write my fantasies on this scroll. I am not sure why, for this document is supposed to be purely fact. I am sorry, my reader. I have deceived you. My days are not as happy as I wish they were. I fantasize about what was, what could have been, instead of thinking about what is. I should be concentrating on telling what _is_, now, in the present, for the citizens of Hong-Nan and Bei-Jia and Xi-Lang. _

_Here it is. The truth. _

_We live in squalor. We are treated as slaves in our own homes for, alas, that is all we are. Slaves to Qu-Dong and, more importantly, to Nakago. The war was lost for Konan. When it was realized that Hotohori had fallen, the troops lost heart. They no longer fought. Without our much beloved emperor, everything seemed black, pointless, hopeless. _

_Though it is true that I killed many that day, I do not wish to relive it in my thoughts. I have almost convinced myself that it was all a dream, some horrid nightmare… _

_But I am not that lucky. In any case, I would be ashamed if I allowed myself to forget – it would be a cowardly thing to do. _

_I shall not bore you, my reader, with details. It is simply this: Nakago won the war. He followed his Priestess into her world. It is rumored that he was killed there by Tamahome, but I do not give credence to these lies. It is hard to believe that a man was killed when that man is the reason one is in hiding, fearing for their life. As I am. He returned here and took over first Qu-Dong, then Hong-Nan, Xi-Lang, and Bei-Jia. I have heard tales that the priestess of Seiryu wished for him to be made a god. Perhaps that is what happened. _

_I saw the Ruler, as Nakago now calls himself, when I was young, and the other seishi were still alive. I saw him again, years ago, though not so many years that I was not an old man. _

_The Ruler has not aged a day. _

_Again, I apologize to you, my reader, for I told more lies than that. It is true, Chichiri and I lived for a time in the palace. It is a prevarication to say that I was Boushin-sama's advisor, that the emperor was as beautiful as his father. Boushin never lived to be a year old. Chichiri and I lived in the dungeons of our country's palace, where we had lived for so long as heroes. The irony is not lost upon me. _

_We did escape, though, long after being imprisoned. We did not get away unharmed. The guards caught us soon after. Chichiri fought them, bravely, for he was aging by then and his strength was failing. Mine was nonexistent. I stayed out of his way. Chichiri won the fight, at great cost. During the battle, he had been wounded by a poisoned blade. He died within two days of escaping. _

_I am being morbid again. I would try to brighten the mood by saying that, in the end, I managed to escape. However, now I am a wanted man. There is no where I can go that I would not be recognized, captured, and brought to the Ruler. _

_There was a decree, shortly after the Ruler's empire was united, that all seishi not of Seiryu would die. He was not aware that Amiboshi was, at that time, alive. I suppose he still might be. Tamahome's master, Tokaki, and his wife, Subaru, were captured and killed. They were old and well done with the world, in any case. I am truly the last seishi, other than Nakago himself. Now, it is only me that is pursued. _

_Wait – what was – _

Chiriko lay down his brush as he heard a sound outside his door. He called all the stealth he possessed into play – quite a lot, as it happened, gathered from years as a fugitive – and crept up from his secret, underground home. The passage opened into an abandoned hovel, ruins from the first war. Left as a statement to Nakago's strength. There was a tiny peep hole in the concealed door, just big enough to see through if one knew it was there. Chiriko peered through it.

And froze.

In the living room of the hovel were camped three of Qu-Dong's soldiers. The remnants of a fire sat in the middle of the floor and the soldiers themselves prowled the room, searching. For him. They were here. They had found him.

He was doomed.

It surprised in to find that he was perfectly calm. He retreated again and sat at his desk, waiting. Soon enough, the soldiers found his door and stormed down. He regarded them with a calm expression. They regarded him with disgust and contempt.

"You found me."

"Aye, tha' we di'. An' ye bes' cum kwuetleh iffen ye knows wha's bes' fer ye." The soldier's voice was rough with hatred.

"Even iffen ye don', ye's a'cumin' wiff urs an'weh."

They were right, Chiriko knew. He was still very small, though he had grown quite a bit over the impressive expanse of years. "You will take me to Nakago." It was more statement than question, but with a slight lifting of tone at the end that might deceive a person into thinking the opposite.

"Aye."

"May I finish this first?" Chiriko gestured at the scroll on his makeshift desk, the little ink bottle and brush and the candle stub he used for light.

The soldier peered at it. "Whu's this, na?"

"A scroll." They were obviously illiterate, as many were now. "Writing. I am writing a very important document. It won't be but a few moments, please." Though he didn't show it, Chiriko hoped desperately that this request would be granted. The story of the Suzaku seishi, the tale he had written before slipping into his own musings, had to be preserved no matter the cost. Eventually, the soldier that was apparently in charge nodded. Chiriko thanked him, politely (he didn't know why he bothered – after all, they were here to take him to his death) and turned his attention back to the scroll. While the soldiers looked on, he picked up his brush and began to write.

_Three soldiers from Qu-Dong have found me. I am caught. Soon, I will face torture, death, and whatever lies beyond this world. I am sure that, at long last, I will be reunited with my fellow Suzaku warriors, perhaps Miaka and Tamahome as well. Perhaps I shall meet the warriors of Genbu and Byakko. _

_Reader, heed my words and never forget: When all seems darkest, light will appear in unexpected places. Look to the stars, my dear reader, look always to the stars. They will give you the hope you need to survive your darkness and they will tell you much of what is to come. Look to the stars. _

_I end my tale, at long last, with these words of advice. _

_Chiriko, Last of the Suzaku Seven. _

A tear fell from Chiriko's eye. It was not because he knew of his swiftly approaching death, but rather because of the completion of the scroll. It was like his child, his comfort, a listening ear when he needed to talk and a faithful friend when the last of his human friends had died. It was heavy, lengthy, barely small enough for him to lift, but he was not glad to have finished it. Carefully, he blew on the ink to dry it and rolled up the scroll. He sealed it with wax from his candle stub and hefted it into his arms.

"I would like to leave it in the ruins above," he told the soldiers. "It is of no use to you, but if you wish, you may return for it when I am no longer in your charge." He looked them over. The next words were spoken with blatant lack of caring. "Nakago will torture me before he kills me."

"Tha' he wull," grunted one soldier, eyeing his scroll with curiosity.

"If you return for this, would you do me a favor?" Chiriko said suddenly, deciding that if he was going to die, he might as well try to make some good of it. "Find someone who can read and have them read this to you. It is long, but you will not regret it."

"Per'aps."

The group of four tramped back into the ruins, where Chiriko lovingly set his scroll down. He held out his hands to the soldiers and did not resist when they tied thick ropes around his wrists and neck. He was lifted onto a horse, but still did not attempt to break free. His scroll was done. The story was told. People would continue to look to the stars for guidance, as he long had.

Chiriko held his head up, proudly, as he rode toward his death.

---


End file.
